


i wanted it to be you

by Kasuchi



Series: who fills your heart with joy [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Companion Piece, F/M, Fluff, Romance, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Jake likes watching Sophia get ready for the day.</em> Jake and Sophia, and their relationship from the inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanted it to be you

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for "The Road Trip," and a companion piece to **oh how i wish you would**. 
> 
> Much love to **blithers** for beta-reading this for me! 
> 
> Title is from _You've Got Mail_.

Jake likes watching Sophia get ready for the day. 

In the mornings, he lies in her bed, propped up against her headboard, and watches as she goes through her morning routine, applying lotion on her face and hands and getting dressed in a controlled spiral of steps. The last thing she does is apply her eyeliner and mascara, and he buttons his shirt as she smudges in her smoky eye look. 

Most mornings, they get coffee at the deli by her apartment before parting at the trains, she to her law office and him to the Nine-Nine. The best-worst part of his morning is that heart-stopper kiss they share before parting ways. Jake wonders if he'll ever stop getting that feeling when they kiss, and hopes the answer is, "No."

**& &&**

He and Sophia are watching _The Good Wife_ on her couch, her body nestled in against his, half on top of him, when she pulls up her phone and holds it up and away, the front-facing camera on.

"Smile," she commands, and Jake presses his cheek into her hair and beams, while dramatic music sounds from the television. The phone makes the _ka-chak_ sound of a fake camera shutter, and Sophia pulls back her hand to look at the picture. 

"You are so good at that," Jake says. 

"Steadiest hands at the firm," Sophia volleys back, and sets the picture as her lock screen. "We look so cute," she says, admiring the photo. 

"The clock is basically my entire face," Jake points out. 

"It's a good look for you." She shifts so that they're chest to chest. "Makes you much more useful." 

Jake takes the phone out of her hands and tosses it behind the sofa. "How about I show you how useful I can be, and you show me just how steady your hands are?" 

She grins, slowly, eyes creasing at the edges, and Jake feels his heart start to race. "Challenge accepted," she replies, voice husky, and undoes the fly of his jeans with one hand.

**& &&**

Jake never thought he would be one of those "we" people, the kind who talks about their relationship almost exclusively in first-person-plural pronouns, but then he didn't expect to meet Sophia. He finds himself saying, "We're going to--" or "We went to--" or "We saw--" every other sentence, and the frisson of joy that brings him is strange and thrilling.

They go on dates -- honest-to-god dates. Since it's winter, some nights are spent in, watching movies and making out (or more) on her couch, or his sometimes. He takes her out driving in his car on weekends, the interior gleaming and the pine tree air freshener ornament dangling from his rearview mirror keeping that "old cheese" smell at bay. 

They drive out of the city, out onto Long Island, and watch the midnight tide roll in on Long Island Sound, the roar of the ocean just as moving as the feeling of Sophia's fingers entwined with his. 

They end up catnapping in the car, lingering long enough to watch the sun rise over the New York/Connecticut border. 

It's perfect.

**& &&**

Amy is distracted lately, Jake can tell. Sometimes, if she doesn't catch herself in time, Jake sees this expression on her face, something like _longing_ , before he blinks and it's gone.

He refuses to contemplate it. That door is closed, and that torch long since doused. Jake might have started dating one woman to get over another, but he's still not going to contemplate what-if scenarios. 

Lost in thought, he runs a hand over his tie, and catches Amy swallow hard enough for it to be visible.

**& &&**

Sophia drops by the precinct after doing some pro bono work in Brooklyn, and perches on Jake's desk. Her short skirt rides up a little, the bottom edge of her stockings' lace edging just visible, and Jake places his hand on the spot, palm warm against her wind-chilled skin. With his other hand, he brushes aside her hair, middle and forefinger twisting a curl around his knuckles before letting it spring free.

She's holding court, her vibrant personality drawing the others. Rosa nearly smiles, and Sarge is listening with begrudging respect as Sophia talks about how she ran circles around the plaintiff's attorney before moving to dismiss. She makes some joke and the others laugh, but all Jake sees is the hot look she gives him, expression scorching, and feels the way she lays her hand on top of the one he's got on her leg. It makes him want to sweep his desk clean and push her knees open and _lick_ , audience be damned. 

Obviously, he doesn't do that, but the way her lips part slightly, the tip of her tongue sweeping across the seam of her lips in a darting flash of pink, makes Jake think she's thinking the same thing he is.

**& &&**

They're at the bar, in the big open space that Shaw's sometimes uses to host some local band, standing and chatting with Holt and Boyle. Sophia is asking Boyle about his pizza blog, which Jake showed her the other day, and Jake asks Holt how Kevin is doing. Holt goes on a long sidebar about Kevin's current research, and Jake realizes he's increasingly out of his depth when Rosa (mercifully) pulls both Boyle and Holt away to play darts with her and Deetmore.

Sophia sets her empty wineglass aside. Jake finished his beer in the middle of Holt's sidebar and passed it off to the barback, so his hands are free when Sophia reaches for his. 

"I'm glad you're here," Jake tells her, squeezing her fingers slightly. 

She tilts her head slightly, one side of her mouth quirking up. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." 

Jake suddenly finds it hard to breathe. He brushes aside a stray lock from her cheek, his other hand releasing hers and following the line of her jaw to tangle in her hair. His fingers tighten on the back of her neck and he pulls her lips up to meet his. He kisses her with his entire body. She tastes like red wine, and he feels her hands come up to wrap around his shoulders. 

The kiss is (rudely) interrupted by their colleagues catcalling. Jake breaks the kiss and flips them off, and they all laugh. Sophia's hand is warm on his back. 

The rock song on the bar jukebox ends, and a jazzy song that Jake recognizes from his mom's music collection comes on. He takes Sophia's hand and says, "Dance with me?" 

Beaming and a little pink, she nods, and they fall into a basic step pattern, moving back and forth without too much trouble. He raises his hand and she turns smoothly, laughing brightly. He brings her hands to his shoulders, his hands around her waist. They lose the step and instead revolve in time to the music, foreheads touching. 

Sophia is warm and toying with the edges of his hair, and the rest of the bar fades away until the song ends.

**& &&**

They sleep in one weekend, and Jake surprises her with breakfast in bed, the toast a little blackened at the edges, but the eggs are perfect and the bacon is crisp and the coffee strong and dark.

"You made this?" she asks, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and smoothing down her hair. Her voice is thick with sleep, and Jake feels a surge of fondness for her. He watches as she takes a bite of the scrambled eggs and a bite of the toast, the butter shining in the slanted light of his loft. "It's good," she adds.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," he teases, running a finger along the inch of skin showing above the waistband of the boxers and the hem of his old police academy tee she's wearing as pajamas. 

"This is so nice," she corrects, running her fingers through his hair, nails scratching gently against his scalp. 

Jake closes his eyes and tilts his head into her hand, making a hum of pleasure when she finds a spot at his hairline behind his ear. The hand at her waist splays out, cupping her hip and thumb tracing the ridge of her hipbone. "Darling," he says, just that one endearment, and opens his eyes to meet hers. 

Her dark gaze softens, and her hand comes down, her fingers tracing his collarbone through his white t-shirt. "Darling," she echoes after a beat. She moves the tray aside and pulls him in for a kiss, bringing his body half on top of hers.

**& &&**

Jake looks at their hands, gloved fingers entwined and clasped between them, as they walk along the Brooklyn Bridge, and thinks, _Yes, this._


End file.
